


forcefield activated

by sarcastic_fina



Category: Life with Derek
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 03:49:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 14,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4591845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcastic_fina/pseuds/sarcastic_fina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of completed drabbles and oneshots involving Casey and Derek. Individual summaries added to each story inside!</p><p>[10] She had this fantasy that for the first while she figured was completely non-sexual.<br/>[11] Casey MacDonald refused to believe that of all the things in the entire world, of all the people that could possibly ignite her passion, it was <i>him</i>.<br/>[12] Apparently, Casey's klutzy "I've-got-a-crush" thing rubs off!<br/>[13] He, personally, had long ago accepted cleaning as her way of sorting out what was going on in her head, her way of coming to terms with those big moments.<br/>[14] While Edwin Venturi didn't always exactly like his older brother (much as he often looked up to him), he followed orders well.<br/>[15] “Just admit it… you <i>need</i> me.”<br/>[16] When Derek takes a spill in hockey, he realizes he should probably share a few things with his favorite Space Case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Operation Dasey

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Note** : Please keep in mind that all of the drabbles within this collection were all written 5+ years ago, so my writing, style, and thinking of have changed in many ways.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was all supposed to be very covert.
> 
> [ **originally posted** : Sep. 5th, 2008 at 1:59 PM]

It was all supposed to be very covert. Edwin rolled across the floor, nearly knocking over an endtable and vase on the way and came to a stop at his first destination. He knocked once, tapped twice, and made a cawing noise before Lizzie opened the door, rolled her eyes at him and then joined him of the floor. Together, they crawled across the carpet, army-style. Elbows in front, legs bowed, using their toes to push them higher. They probably looked like idiots and he dearly hoped that nobody turned on the lights and spotted them then because it would be yet another thing to add to the "embarrass Edwin Venturi for life" list that was far too long already.

"Are Papa Bear and Mama Bear hibernating?"

Lizzie lifted a brow. "Yeah. Mom said something about cuddling with her "Georgie" and they went downstairs." She made a disgusted face. "Has D exited the lair?"

He nodded. "Right on schedule. D infiltrated C's tower fifteen minutes ago."

"Good." She nodded. For weeks they'd noticed the consistent behavior of Derek leaving his room at exactly 12 am to sneak into Casey's bedroom, shutting the door tight behind him. Upon further investigation, Derek then woke at 5:30 am to Casey's alarm clock and tiredly dragged his feet back to his room where he fell back to sleep and didn't get up until he had to.

Edwin was the first to notice it and upon meeting in the game's closet, they agreed they should look into it. Outward appearances showed that nothing had changed; Derek was still arrogant and mean and Casey was still a dramatic feminist who hated his guts. Sure, there were the odd moments where they'd see a  _real_ Derek smile directed at her and at rare times, they even got along. But they were still arguing constantly, wrestling over the remote or whatever else, and the daily yells of "Der-ek!" never ceased. So what was happening in that room? Was Derek pulling one very long and incredibly precise prank on her that not even Casey knew he was in her room... It seemed farfetched.

"Operation Dasey is a go!" he whispered dramatically before he began crawling once more, even quicker now.

"Ow! I think I'm getting rug burn," Lizzie said from behind him.

"Suck it up, soldier!" Feeling a harsh slap on the back of his leg, he winced sheepishly. "Uh, sorry. Got caught up," he said, smiling slightly.

Rolling her eyes, Lizzie sighed before crawling up next to him so they were both close to Casey's bedroom door.

Sliding a little closer, they pressed their ears to the doors, facing each other.

There was a lot of shifting around, like blankets and then some girlish giggling followed by Derek's deep laugh. So Casey _did_ know Derek was there... Then what was going on?

"Der-ek!" she whisper-admonished, her tone amused. "They're going to hear us one day."

"Hey! You're the one who makes all the noise!" he replied smugly.

"And you keep coming back."

"Yeah, well, what red-blooded man wouldn't?" He scoffed. "Move your legs right...  _there_."

" _Oh!_ "

"Exactly," he sighed. "Mm, try to stay quiet this time," he teased.

"I can be quiet! I just-OH! OH!"

"You like that?"

"Mmm...Hmm..."

There was more shuffling and Casey was gasping and whimpering.

Edwin's brows lifted. "Uh..."

Lizzie flushed. "Okay... I think Operation Dasey is a bit... adult rated."

Edwin swallowed like he had a bad taste in his mouth. "Just a  _little_."

"Oh god, Der-ek! Right there."

"Uh, yeah, you're so tight, Case..."

Wrinkling their noses, the two younger teens pulled away from the door and began crawling in the opposite direction. When they heard a loud bang like the bed hitting the wall, they shuddered. "Did you know?" Lizzie wondered, lifting a brow as they stopped in front of her door.

" _No_. I mean, I thought  _maybe,_ but he's always picking on her so..." He shrugged.

Lizzie slapped her forehead comically. "I can't believe we missed it! It's playground psychology. Pick on the girl you  _like_!"

Edwin nodded. "But that doesn't explain Casey's reaction back."

She shrugged. "Well... Maybe she didn't know how to react to Derek. She's not used to being treated that way... But all that fighting was obviously a whole lot of unresolved sexual tension."

He snorted. "Not so unresolved anymore."

Lizzie shook her head. "Well... It'll come out eventually." She stared at him questioningly. "Does it freak you out?"

"Not really."

"Me either."

They nodded.

"So what's our next mystery, Venturi?"

His expression became serious, eyes thinned. "Well, MacDonald, it's our job to find out just who's been hording all the cookies..." He looked around as if the culprit could be nearby. "And whoever it is..." He slapped his fist into his palm. "They're gonna  _pay_."

"Uh yeah, right." Lizzie rolled her eyes before she yawned. "I'm going to bed." She stood up and stretched her back before she waved goodnight and closed her door.

Edwin took another cursory glance around before he crawled toward the stairs leading to his room, humming the James Bond theme song under his breath. Neither of them noticed the seven year old Marti sitting in her doorway, eating a handful of cookies and wondering what her family was up to now.

"I know, Daphne," she sighed, shaking her head. "They're so silly." She took another bite of her cookie and then frowned. "If they find out it was us, I'm telling them you  _told_ me to do it! It's not fair that  _I_ always get in trouble." She huffed, standing up from the floor. "No! I told you! We can't tell dad and Nora until Smerek admits he loves Casey!" She hid the cookies beneath her bed and crawled underneath her covers. " _Because_ if we say it now then he'll  _never_ tell her and it's already been two whole years! He's gotta say it  _soon_  because I'm  _not_ gonna lose this bet. I don't care  _how_  much you want my purple tiara, you're not getting it!" She pursed her lips, nodded and then turned over. "Go to sleep already!"

Just another night in the MacDonald/Venturi house.

 

[ **end** ]


	2. Sophisticated Burbing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Casey argue over baby names.
> 
> [ **originally posted** : Sep. 5th, 2008 at 2:33 PM]

She scoffed. "No matter how many times you bring it up, we're not naming him Derek!"

"Come on, Case. We can call him DJ if it makes you feel better." He rubbed his hands together.

Shaking her head, she lifted her brows for emphasis. "No. Way." She crossed her arms over her inflated stomach. "I want something... sophisticated and unique." She lifted her nose.

"Hey!" His brows furrowed. "First of all, my name rocks!" He smirked. "And second of all... That kid is mine, meaning it's pretty unlikely he'll be anywhere near sophisticated."

She scoffed. "He's half mine meaning there's only a fifty percent change he'll come out burping!" She wrinkled her nose at him.

He laughed. "Whatever Space-Case, let's just get him named before he gets here, all right?"

She nodded, wiggling around in her seat and putting a hand to her stomach. "Only four more weeks, baby boy, and then you're out to greet the world!"

"Way to be dramatic," her husband muttered, rolling his eyes. "And quit playing all that opera music for him. He's gonna be a hockey player, I just know it."

"Well if you weren't reciting statistics to him when you think I'm napping, he'd at least get to choose what he wanted to be!"

"He's not even born yet. All he'll want is food and a clean diaper." He leered at her, smirking. "Judging by where his food comes from, he's got a good life."

She pursed her lips, trying to hide her amusement. "Shut up and open the book again."

Sighing, Derek spread the big book of baby names across his lap. "What letter were we at?"

"J," she said, leaning against him, her head on his shoulder. She sighed lightly, her hand rubbing circles on her tummy. She felt his head fall to the side, perched against her own as they went through the list.

"Joseph," she said.

"Only if I get to pronounce it Yo-seph."

She sighed. "Next."

[end]


	3. Neurotic Pleasures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was too much. She should stop, really.
> 
> [ **originally posted** : Sep. 6th, 2008 at 6:26 PM]

It was too much. She should stop, really. Her sensible side told her it was the right decision; just crawl out of his bed, search out her clothes, dress hastily and hurry back to her room. Her mind warred with her heart; there were so many things against them, so many logical reasons they should stop. Their parents, their siblings, their friends. The last thing she needed was to become even less liked at school because she was in a taboo relationship with the guy she had quite obviously despised for so long. And yes, there was a reason everything boiled over into anger rather than raw sexual passion. She pushed the idea that she might be even slightly attracted to him to the furthest part of her mind and all the things he did that made her crazy had her forcing those feelings deeper and deeper inside of herself until even  _she_ was sure that she hated him; everything about him.

"Stop thinking," he groaned from beside her. His arm slid around her waist easily and hauled her back until she was pressed up against his warm, bare chest. His leg slid between hers and tangled, locking her in place. She bit her lip, telling herself this was no time to be distracted. But then she felt his fingers drawing doodles on her stomach and his breath beating rhythmically against her neck. Her eyes drooped and her lip escaped her teeth. She felt him kiss her shoulder and down her back, nuzzling her spine with his nose.

The way he made her feel, physically and emotionally, even  _that_ was too much. Whether she was falling more and more in love or going crazy over his latest antic, she felt like she was always standing on an edge and he was slowly but surely pushing closer to her inevitable fall. She should stop, she really should. She should think with her head; her always precise and logical and tidy mind. She didn't belong here, in his messy room, surrounded by hockey memorabilia, posters of half-naked women, dirty clothes everywhere but in the hamper, and him. His scent, his touch, his essence in every corner and surface. Her brow furrowed and she stared out with scared eyes; what was she  _doing_?

He turned her over suddenly until she was sprawled out beneath him and he slid between her legs as if it was a natural move. His body pressed against hers, so familiar and comfortable, fitting against her just right. She stared up into his warm brown eyes; they were half-closed because he was tired. His hair was all over, nothing out of the ordinary, but this was more because she'd run her fingers through it over and over, gripping it between her fingers as he thrust into her, suckling her neck as he brought her closer to the physical perfection she'd only ever shared with him. His skin was still flushed and his lips bruised from kissing.

"You think too much," he muttered, lips curving into a smrk. "We have two options. You can either just accept that what we are is happening and going to stay happening, ‘cause trust me, it  _is_ ," he assured, brows lifting. "Or I can get back to exhausting you so that your brain shuts down entirely and we can finally get some sleep."

"Der-ek! You can't solve everything with- _Oh..._ " Her eyes fluttered as he brushed himself against her, rocking his hips and ducking his head to trail his mouth from her collarbone down, suckling her skin enticingly.

All right, so he'd learned awhile ago to deal with her neurotic tendencies and while they still argued regularly, he'd discovered a much more  _pleasing_ way to go about it. Her knees fell apart widely, toes curling against the sheet and her arms lifted of their own accord, wrapping around him, fingers pressing into his back, urging him closer.

Maybe it was too much and maybe she should stop... but she didn't; wouldn't. Because she loved him and he loved her and even if it did eventually blow up in their faces, she was just going to have to enjoy it while it lasted. His lips wrapped around her pebbled nipple, teeth grazing it lightly and she moaned, arching against him. And enjoy it she would; over and over and over again.

 

[ **end** ]


	4. The Sooner, The Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being the Lord of the Lies meant that Derek knew a thing or two about keeping something secret.
> 
> [ **originally posted** : Sep. 8th, 2008 at 3:27 PM]

Being the Lord of the Lies meant that Derek knew a thing or two about keeping something secret. When it came down to it, if he wanted something kept entirely quiet, never known and never found out, he told no one. Not Sam, definitely not Ralph, and  _none_ of his siblings, step or otherwise. But the most important thing to do was hide the evidence; everything that could point him out in a lineup and label him guilty had to be hidden away in places nobody would find. Every word, nod, smile, or extra lingering look had to be kept from curious eyes at all times. So when he fell for his step-sister it was by far the biggest secret he ever had to keep, especially when she returned the feeling.

He wasn't a sap, so he wasn't shouting it from rooftops. Point in fact, he rarely actually said the three dreaded words. But she knew and he knew and that's all that really mattered. What was important was that nobody else knew... He knew his family and his friends and there'd be some major freaking out. Not only because few would see past the whole step-siblings thing but also because it'd been five years already, since mid-senior year, and neither of them had let it out, not once. He got good at hiding evidence; it became second nature.

Some things he didn't have to hide; lipstick on the collar just made it look like he didn't care that anybody noticed he'd been with "some random girl," even though  _he_ knew it wasn't random and had been the same girl for years. But other things, like the fact that their apartment had one bedroom, not two, became a little harder to hide. That took some careful avoidance techniques that meant they always went to other people's places and never invited family or longtime friends over. Their college friends didn't know about the step sib's thing, so they were okay, but Sam and Emily did, which meant any meeting up was done in public or at their places.

It was tiresome sometimes. While he didn't want to shout it at people or proclaim it from the rooftops, he didn't want to hide her away from his family. Especially since they were starting in on the "You need to grow up sometime, Derek. You're whole life can't all be about the next woman..." Yeah, he knew that. Had for awhile now. And while the old him would've shuddered at the very thought of only one girl, he learned quick that it wasn't so bad... In fact, it had a lot of upsides.

Sure, they fought. A lot. But the making up was even more passionate and he always knew that no matter what was said or done, in the end, it was always going to be him and Casey. Which is why he slowly started letting the evidence come out. He stopped hiding pictures, didn't bring up non-existent women he'd seduce and quit covering the scent of her perfume on him with his cologne. He didn't bother telling the fam they couldn't come over to the apartment, in fact he rather encouraged it. He wanted it out; wanted them to know. So he let his arm linger around her longer than they were used to, let his real smile show rather than the smirk they were used to. He stopped fighting with her about nothing just for show and he noticed the way they were looking at them now; skeptical but suspicious. It was only a matter of time before they all figured it out and he personally couldn't wait for the shit to hit the fan. The sooner it happened, the sooner they could get used to it, and the sooner he could propose.

It was all part of the plan, see... What Derek Venturi wants, he gets and he never does anything without thinking about what will happen. So there'll be fighting and questions and a whole lot angsty crap that will eventually blow over. But in the end, he'll marry her and the people that matter will come around... That's just how it goes. Sure, Casey will freak and cry and overanalyze everything, annoyed that he's being so ‘whatever' about it, but he already knows what's going to happen. It always turns out right for him and as much as that might drive her crazy, it'll come in handy for them now. So when they knocked at his and Casey's front door and she burned a hole through him with her glare, all he did was smirk. The sooner, the better.

 

[ **end** ]


	5. Life's Payback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Traffic was a bitch. The one day he needs everything to go smoothly, it just doesn't.
> 
> [ **originally posted** : Sep. 8th, 2008 at 4:15 PM]

Traffic was a bitch. The one day he needs everything to go smoothly, it just doesn't. He woke up late, burned breakfast, was late for hockey practice, forgot his cell phone at home, nearly injured one of his fellow teammates and couldn't concentrate worth crap. Luckily, the guys gave him some slack. He was, after all, a week away from being a first-time dad. So when the Coach started waving him in frantically from the game they were playing, he was nervous. Only to realize that his day had just gotten that much more crazy. She was having the baby early; she was already at the hospital and tried repeatedly calling his cell only to realize he forgot it. Without changing, he hurriedly made his way to his car, forcing his skates off as he sat fidgeting and freaking out in the driver's seat. Dressed in full hockey gear, he took off toward the hospital at mach 5, running three red lights, two stop signs, and speeding right past a cop car that pulled him over. After explaining in a rush what was happening, he got a ticket and a warning to slow down and he nodded agreeably, but as soon as the cop was gone, he was speeding again and ignoring all road signs.

Luckily, he wasn't pulled over again, but he  _did_ get caught in a mid-afternoon traffic jam. Groaning, he smacked the steering wheel angrily and shouted at the roof of his car. "If this is payback for everything I've ever done wrong, you could've picked a better day!" He ignored the other drivers that seemed to be staring at him funny and anxiously sat in his car, finding they were barely moving, but still making some, very little, progress. From what the coach said, she'd been in labor for hours already, screaming at the nurses that she wasn't giving birth until he got his "scrappy ass" over there to see the "magical birth of our first freakin' kid!" In case of emergency, he'd given her all of his teammates cell phone numbers just for this kind of occasion but they were posted on the fridge at home and he didn't realize until then that all of their phones would be put away in the locker room during practice. Which is probably why it took so long before she finally got through to the coach to let him know what was going on. Not that it comforted him in the least.

"COME ON!" he shouted at the vehicles in front of him, praying for some kind of miracle. "I'll stop calling Ed just to pick on him, I won't spread rumors at Lizzie's school that anyone who dates her will get a severe ass kicking, and I will agree with Casey for the rest of my life... Okay, the rest of the  _week_ , if you just give me some kind of break!" he pleaded to whoever was listening.

Traffic started moving. He let out a shriek of joy until he realized he was stuck once more, this time he'd just managed to get around the corner. He could, however, see the hospital in the distance. He could imagine her now, red-faced and panting with anger as she sat in the hospital bed, shouting through clenched teeth, "This is  _so_ like him! He probably stopped to chat up some girl or pick up something to eat before he breezes in here and asks if all the hard work is done yet! OH GOD! Why did I ever  _marry_ him? This is all his fault! I'm never sleeping with him again! Did you  _hear_ me, Emily? NEVER! AGAIN!"

Derek stared at the hospital and then looked down at the long line of cars jammed up and honking away. He'd be stuck here forever! Shaking his head, he threw open his door and hopped out of the car, fully aware that he wasn't wearing shoes, and started running down the street. It only took him five minutes at running as fast as he could before he reached the front doors of the hospital, out of breath and sweating. He was cold, his feet hurt, and he really felt like puking right about now, but he hurried to the front desk and gasped out, "Wife - baby - now!"

She pointed him in the right direction and when he got to the floor he was expected on, after running up a few flights of stairs rather than waiting for the elevator, all he had to do was follow the shouting voice of his wife that echoed throughout the halls.

" _Where_ is  _he_? You called him almost an  _hour_ ago! Oh god, if he misses this I am going to ring his neck so bad he'll-"

"Ma'am, you're scaring the other women on this floor," a nurse told her.

"I don't  _CARE_!"

Stumbling, Derek managed to come to a halt in front of her door, panting loudly and bent over from exertion. "I'm here," he gasped, nodding. "I'm here!"

"Ugh! Thank god," Emily exclaimed, shaking her head.

"Der-ek!" Casey yelled from the bed, her hair plastered to her flushed face and neck. "What  _took_ you so long?"

Making his way over, he rolled his eyes before pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I'm here now... ‘S all that matters."

Sniffling, her eyes welled with tears. "I wasn't sure you'd make it!" she sobbed.

Sighing, he shifted back and forth, after all these years, he still couldn't take tears very well. Wrapping his arms around her awkwardly, he let her cry on his shoulder. She mumbled incoherently through her tears, clutching at his jersey and sniffling. Not sure what to say, he just kept repeating, "I'm here, I made it, don't worry."

When she was finally done crying, she sat back in her bed and furrowed her brows at him. "You didn't change," she murmured.

He shrugged. "I was in a hurry."

"You're not wearing shoes," Emily commented.

"Oh my Goooood..." Casey teared up again and Derek sighed. It was going to be a long day.

 

[ **end** ]


	6. Imaginary Crushes and Real Ones Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marti has something she really needs to tell Derek and he realizes if anyone's oblivious, it's him.
> 
> [ **originally posted** : Sep. 8th, 2008 at 10:14 PM]

"Smerek..." Marti walked into his room without knocking and looked up at him with a half-sad, half-confused expression. He waved her over and picked her up so she was sitting in his lap. With a sigh, she looked up at him with big blue eyes. "I have something I need to tell you and it's  _verrrry_  serious."

He half-smiled. "Okay, Smarti, lay it on me."

She sighed, looking quite pensive for her age. "Daphne has a crush."

His brows lifted, lips quirking. "Really?" He was pretty sure his little Smarti was too young to like boys, but hey, maybe she took after him a bit. He'd see where this went. "And does this boy like her back?"

"No!" she exclaimed, eyes wide. "No, he has a crush on someone  _else_!" She sighed, shoulders slumping. "And I  _told_ Daphne that but she said I was being a-dic-ulus!"

"Ridiculous," he corrected absently. "Well, does the girl this other boy likes like him back?"

"Uh huh," She nodded, "but he doesn't know that and she doesn't know he likes her... I don't  _think_." Her brows furrowed.

Derek sighed. "Listen Smarti, if this kid doesn't realize how great you are, then you're better off. You're too awesome for some boy who likes some lame other girl!"

"Smer- _ek_!" she exclaimed, in a tone that quite resembled Casey's. "It's not me, it's  _Daphne_! And don't call Casey  _lame_!"

"Wait. What? Who the hell likes Casey? Did you say she likes him  _back_?" He looked baffled and annoyed and he was more than a little frustrated.   
  
He was well aware that Casey wasn't dating anyone and she hadn't pulled any major klutziness lately, except for those few times he barely caught her before she tumbled down the stairs when he was walking up to his room. Or when she tripped out of nowhere and fell right into his lap, and then that time she somehow managed to get tangled up in the X-Box controller chords while he was playing a racing game and landed face-first on the floor. But nothing at school around any guys and he would've noticed if her and Emily were gossiping about some new crush. It was hard to get away from an exited Casey. Not that he was paying attention to her or anything...

Marti sighed, rolling her eyes. "I shouldn't'a told you, now Daphne's gonna be mad at me." Huffing, she crossed her arms over her chest. "I told her I wouldn't tell you she liked you but I couldn't _help_  it." She pouted. "Am I a bad friend?"

"Uh..." Derek rubbed the back of his neck. "Of course you're not a bad friend, Smarti. You're the best friend an imaginary girl could have." He half-smiled. "Now... explain this thing where you think I like Casey and she likes me again in a  _little_ more detail?"

She smiled up at him as if he was hopeless. "Of Smerek, you're so a-bliff-sus."

"Oblivious." He smirked, lifting a brow. "And only you can get away with that," he said, reaching down to tickle her. "Now spill it, Smarti... What do you know?"

Giggling, she shrieked, "Everything!"

And he was pretty sure she really did.

 

[ **end** ]


	7. His Last Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last words he ever said to her were...
> 
> [ **originally posted** : Sep. 9th, 2008 at 6:42 PM]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **warning** : character death

The last words he ever said to her were, "Stop being a spaz, Space Case. Some of us are winners and others, meaning _you_ , are losers."

Two hours later, while on her way to meet Emily somewhere, probably to bitch about him, she was hit by a car and was labeled DOA. Apparently her being an Ace driver didn't mean everybody else was.

He was the one who answered the phone with his usual careless, "Yeah?" And then he got the shock of his life and everything in his world turned upside down. He didn't really remember what happened after that, he blanked out, not answering their questions. He knew his dad took the phone, trying to figure out what had him acting so weird, and then it was chaos. There was crying and yelling, but he just sunk down to the floor, using the wall to hold himself up and he didn't move for the next two days. He just stared out, eyes wide, holding his knees to his chest.

The funny thing, or maybe not so funny, was that he loved her. Really, he did. He loved fighting with her and getting her riled up and knowing that whatever he did, good or bad, she'd spend the next while thinking of him, mulling over every little action and then ranting and raving to whoever would listen. He liked always being on her mind and the one who could push her every button with as little as a smirk. Nobody else could elicit that reaction; not Sam or Max or Snot. Nobody. Just him. But he couldn't say that kind of stuff to her, so he kept it simple. He insulted her, drove her crazy, played the jackass step-brother up as best he could. And he enjoyed it; he loved seeing her flushed and red and her entire body taut with anger and passion.

But all of that ended that day and all he could think was that his last words to her had been mean and cruel and she had absolutely no idea what he really meant, what he really felt. Nobody did. So he stood there awhile later, dressed in some too-tight black suit, staring down at the casket with no facial expression whatsoever. Earlier, when they had asked him to talk about her, he shook his head, left the room. He let them believe he was that much of a jerk that he wouldn't say anything about his step-sister that he tormented every day. He let everybody think he was selfish and could care less that she was gone. But they pushed and pushed until he finally broke.

"I can't do it, okay? I just can't! Because I'm going to get up there and they're all going to expect me to say something funny or mean or joke about how many good and bad times we had and I can't! Because she was Case - she was Spacey - and she was crazy and neurotic and I was so in love with her that it physically hurts right now. So can you leave me the hell alone,  _please_?" He was crying by then, red in the face and shaking. He didn't wait for them to reply, he just hurried up the stairs, slammed the door, turned up his music and didn't come out until the day of her funeral.

He didn't move, didn't flinch, didn't look at anybody. He didn't hear what they said, didn't listen to the crappy pop music they would've played and didn't accept hugs or handshakes or anything. Instead, he waited for it all to be over and then he tossed a single daisy into the hole she was to be buried in, turned and left, yanking his tie off and throwing it to the ground. He went to the school, broke into the hockey rink and skated circles around and around until he was too exhausted to move anymore, and then he fell asleep on the bench, shaking and crying and screaming obscenities to no one in particular. He woke up to the janitor shaking him and managed to stumble home, where he ignored the family that all sat in somber silence, went upstairs and crawled into her bed, surrounded by all the pink, girly crap that she loved so much. He fell asleep there and hoped he never woke up. But he would and he'd have to go on and he would. Because he was Derek Venturi and she was Casey MacDonald and now the only people who knew about how he really felt was his family. Not the person that should have though. Because she was dead and buried and his last words to her were all that she'd really remember... Something he would regret for the rest of his life.

 

[ **end** ]


	8. Not Puppy Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knew exactly what his parents would label it when they admitted that they were more than just step-siblings or friends.
> 
> [ **originally posted** : Sep. 9th, 2008 at 6:52 PM]

He knew exactly what his parents would label it when they admitted that they were more than just step-siblings or friends. As soon as they got over the shock, they'd comfort each other with knowing smiles and nod, telling him and Casey that they understood. But as soon as they were out of earshot, his dad and Nora would agree that it was just puppy love. That Derek couldn't possibly, really love her; that Casey couldn't  _really_ fall for someone like him. They'd be amused; they'd wait for the day that it all ended. They'd watch each fight as if it was the last one, the one that would finally end their relationship. And then they'd sigh when they made up, as if it was just prolonging the inevitable. They refused to believe that their children could actually love each other.

They ignored the fact that he and Casey actually worked well together. They made up for each other's faults. She was too wound up, neurotic and a little crazy while he was laid back to the point of being lazy and entirely too easy going. She was a hard worker in everything; school, work, every little thing she could get her hands into. While he only really cared about hockey and, though rarely admitted, his family. They fought, a lot, but the arguments eventually became more playful and less cruel or taunting. They bumped heads still, but they found a balance somewhere.

Weeks, months, even years went by and George and Nora were still skeptical. But that day that he bent down and asked her to marry him, with his customary smirk still in place, a brow lifted as if he already knew her answer and was just waiting for her to get her crying and freaking out over with, they all knew that what he and Casey had was not puppy love. It was strong and lasting and it wasn't ever going to end. Not from fighting or criticism or a lack of approval. And when he looked at his dad, he knew that he'd finally realized that. The smile on Nora's face and the tears in her eyes said the same. Not that he really cared, anyway. Casey said yes, was holding tight to him as she cried happily on his shoulder, and he knew, beyond a doubt, that from day one, when she stepped into his life, things were bound to change. If nobody else saw it, he always did.

Derek Venturi didn't do puppy love; if he was going to fall, he was going in all the way. Thankfully, he just happened to go for the exact right girl the first time around and he was keeping her.


	9. The Odd Nice Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He rarely did nice things; it just wasn't in him.
> 
> [ **originally posted** : Sep. 10th, 2008 at 9:32 PM]

He rarely did nice things; it just wasn't in him. He preferred to look untouched by anything; too self absorbed to notice what was going on with anybody else. But she was walking next to him, rubbing her red hands together and blowing air into them in hopes that they might warm up, which was hard to ignore. It was cold, freezing really, and why the always practical Casey MacDonald hasn't brought gloves was beyond him. He had his on, not something he regularly forgot given how often he played hockey. They were on their way home, walking from where the Prince had petered out and died on them. He had his hockey bag slung over his shoulder and she had her book bag hanging on her side, bouncing against her hip with every step.

They were silent; he was brooding over his stupid car while she was too focused on how cold she was. He was surprised she hadn't started ranting about how it was only right that he, being a boy, should give her, because she was a girl, his gloves. This would be when he replied that she was the most hypocritical feminist alive, but would she care? No. She'd just demand his gloves. But, instead, she just kept walking, faster and faster in hopes that they'd arrive home soon and she wouldn't need his gloves.

He didn't know why (okay, he did, but he hated admitting it), but he finally rolled his eyes, tugged his gloves off and handed them over to her, bumping her in the face in the process, just to show he didn't care. She furrowed her brow, stared up at him in confusion and he kept walking, waiting for her to finally take them. Silently, she tugged them away and then pulled them on, giving a sigh of relief.

"Now I'll have to wash them," he muttered, just loud enough for her to hear.

When he didn't get a snappy comeback right away, he turned to see her, sure that there'd be a pissy expression waiting for him. Instead, he was surprised to see her grinning at him, her eyes bright and her cheeks bitten by the cold, making it look like she was blushing. She didn't say anything, just caught up to his few steps ahead of her, bumped his shoulder and kept walking.

He didn't let her see it, but he grinned to himself. His cold hands, now stuffed in his winter jacket, were worth it, just for that warm Casey MacDonald smile of hers, rarely turned in his direction but just as effective as always. He told himself the squirming in his stomach was just because he missed lunch and the way his heart sped up was because he'd been walking for awhile now. But that didn't stop him from smiling to himself; feeling rather proud. Maybe a nice thing here or there wasn't so bad; the reward was pretty good after all.


	10. Totally Beside The Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She had this fantasy that for the first while she figured was completely non-sexual.
> 
> [ **originally posted** : Sep. 10th, 2008 at 9:46 PM]

She had this fantasy that for the first while she figured was completely non-sexual. She was dressed as a teacher - not so unusual, she'd briefly considered the profession. But as time went on, that outfit became more and more like her private school skirt with a tight white blouse, the buttons undone, but that was beside the point. Her hair was up in a loose bun and she had glasses on, which was unusual since she had 20/20 vision, but again, beside the point. In this fantasy, the most intriguing part is that while she played the teacher,  _Derek_ was the student. He was almost always standing at the blackboard, writing whatever line she'd chosen that day. If he was really annoying her that day, she'd usually have him scrawl out, "I'm not the King of everything; I'm a lowly nothing that compares little to Casey's excellence."

But being Derek, if appeared that even in her fantasies he rarely listened to her... He'd write the first few lines just as she had ordered and then after awhile, she'd see his lips quirk at the corners in that familiar smirk and the sentences would change. Often to innocent but annoying little jabs at her that he knew would make her glower and get all huffy. Later though, they'd be so far from innocent, it was a wonder she didn't blush every time she saw him. Just thinking about what he'd written, the heat in his eyes, made her chew her lip and rub her thighs together. That was entirely beside the point though, of course.

She was certain that this fantasy, of sorts, had more to do with their fight for control than anything. And then the outfits became skimpier and Derek started showing up in her mind wearing the shirt she liked best on him or, on occasion, no shirt at all. During those times, he'd always get chalk on himself and she'd offer to wipe it off him; for some absurd reason that involved her taking her own top off and using it as a chamois. But again, totally beside the point. Because really, it wasn't  _that_  sexual. Not when she started fantasizing about him bending her over her desk and telling her that he wouldn't write anymore lines; that it was now her job to repeat, over and over again, that  _he_  wasthe master, the King, and that she was nothing compared to  _his_ excellence. And she would, begging him to fuck her harder as she clutched at the wood edge of her desk; legs spread wide, skirt pushed up, breasts scraping against the scattered unmarked papers. And if he spanked her from time to time, with the large ruler she often slapped against her palm while she told him what to do, well that meant nothing, really.

Years later, when this fantasy had blossomed long ago and she'd finally accepted that yeah, she loved the power trip she and Derek fought over, and when she and Derek finally got around to admitting there weren't any semblance of step-sibling-like feelings between them, she somehow wound up telling him her fantasy. And if she brought out her old school girl skirt, wore a tight white blouse and handed him a ruler to better explain it to him, well... That was totally, beside the point.


	11. Good Or Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Casey MacDonald refused to believe that of all the things in the entire world, of all the people that could possibly ignite her passion, it was _him_.
> 
> [ **originally posted** : Sep. 11th, 2008 at 8:06 PM]

Casey MacDonald refused to believe that of all the things in the entire world, of all the people that could possibly ignite her passion, it was  _him_.

At first, she thought nothing of it. She made no correlation between her dancing and him. But then it came to her, after a night where she was so angry she could scream, and she just so happened to have a dance recital. She'd put such visceral passion into each move, she'd expressed every emotion - good or bad - and she'd never danced better in her life. All because a few hours before, she and Derek had gotten into one of their regular arguments; except this one was a little bigger, a little meaner, and she walked away feeling hollow and empty all because of how quick he'd been at telling her he was tired of having her around. And when they happened to sort of, kind of, make up the next day - in typical Casey and Derek fashion - she went out and danced before the crowd of people, putting all of her happiness and joy and down to the bone contentedness into each flip and twist and fluid steps until she'd outdid herself once more, getting a standing ovation and pleas for an encore.

When she got home, it hit her. It was him and his attitude, his unwavering enjoyment of fighting with her, challenging her. So yes, while it hurt (more than she'd ever admit) that he didn't want her there, he provided her with something each and every time he upset her, just as vividly as when he made her feel better. It woke something up inside her, pushed her to work harder, to get that frustration out in the only way that made sense; that made her feel good. He never meant to, of course. It was  _Derek_ ; the last thing he'd do was encourage her dancing knowingly. But he had, even if she wasn't willing to admit it.

He made her feel like she was boundless; like she could fly and glide, effortlessly. She forgot to feel anything akin to anxiety; she forgot the stage and the audience and the instructor calling out for more or less or this or that. All she saw was Derek's face; all she heard was Derek's voice. She danced to his mocking laugh and she swayed rhythmically, fighting back without words but instead the sharp, strong movements of her arms, her legs and her hips.

 _He_ was her muse. Of everything in the entire universe, Casey MacDonald just so happened to have picked the  _worst_ candidate for the job. On the bright side, her dancing would never suffer... Not with Derek Venturi there to always play a part in her life; good or bad.


	12. King Klutz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, Casey's klutzy I've-got-a-crush thing rubs off!
> 
> [ **originally posted** : Sep. 14th, 2008 at 4:11 PM]

It was like magic, the really  _bad_ kind. Because Derek, during the rare moments he actually has "f-f-feelings" for a girl, doesn't act like  _such_ a moron. Sure, with Kendra he may have tried to become an entirely different person for her to like him, and then there was that speech he made to Sally that, really, not even  _he_ expected out of himself. But this... This is just embarrassing.

Apparently, Casey's klutzy I've-got-a-crush thing  _rubs off_!

It took him a long time, far longer than he was willing to admit, to figure out just what it was between them. He loved their fighting, probably a little much if his dreams (fantasies, really) were anything to go by. He loved getting her riled up to the point where she was flushed and huffing and nearly screaming his name (Der-EK!). And it was wrong, probably. There's like a law, or something. At the very least, he's pretty sure his family and friends are going to really turn their heads... That is, if he ever gets past the tripping over absolutely everything when he's trying to make a good impression and only managing to make himself look like the biggest Klutizilla that ever entered their high school. Not that anybody was pointing, laughing, or talking about it. Because, after all, he was  _still_ The Derek Venturi.

But that didn't stop Casey from noticing, laughing, talking and pointing  _every single time_  it happened. Which was a serious bruise to his ego, he might add. And Sam never failed to give him that all-knowing look, as if he'd seen this coming years ago, which again, doesn't make him feel the least bit better. Ralph's lack of understanding it at all, however, does sort of perk him up, until he remembers it's Ralph and he doesn't really notice much.

"What are you doing?" she asked, drawing him out of his thoughts.

Here he was, leaning against her locker. There was absolutely no possibility that he could slip, fall, trip, or make a fool out of himself by just leaning... Right? "Huh?" Suave, really suave. It's no wonder the women flock to him.

"Uh..." Her brows furrowed. "I was wondering what you're  _doing_?" She smiled mockingly. "You know your locker is on the other side of the school, right? Or are you lost? Did you trip and fall and lose your sense of direction?" She's enjoying this way too much.

He frowned, lifting a brow back. "I was waiting for you."

"Oh?" She nodded slowly. "And what does the great Derek Venturi," she mocked, "need with smart, well balanced me?"

He sighed. What bothered him even more was that she was right, she hadn't tripped once... Which could only mean one thing, right? That she didn't have a crush on him back. Fate was cruel... In fact, Derek disowned it. Fate was going on his list and there was nothing it could do about it. God, he was a dork sometimes. If Casey could read his mind...

"You're a dork," she said suddenly.

His eyes widened as he stared at her.

Her head turned slightly, lips forming a frown. "Okay...  _what_ is your malfunction today? You've been acting weird all... well... month, actually."

And wasn't  _that_ the kicker! A whole month he'd been acting like this. Were his "f-f-feelings" really supposed to  _last_? Because he couldn't go to college like this, and wasn't it just the cherry on top that they just so happened to get into the same college together? She ranted and raved about it while all he could think was that he  _seriously_ couldn't become a bumbling dork! He was way too cool and attractive for that. He was the hockey captain for God's sake! He was supposed to be gold to women; they were supposed to smile at him flirtily and bat their eye lashes and giggle his name while they looked him up and down, inwardly begging for him to ask them out. But Casey obviously hadn't gotten the memo because she did  _none_ of those things!

"What makes you think anything's wrong?" He rolled his eyes. "There's  _nothing_  wrong. I'm fine. Better than fine. I'm great. I'm Derek! What can go wrong when you're-" And then he tripped over his own feet trying to stand up straighter for emphasis, reached out and grabbed her for balance and somehow ended up taking her to the floor.

"Oof!" she breathed as he landed on top of her. She stared up at him with wide eyes and then huffed. "That! That is what I mean!"

He looked away and then back at her. It was slightly hard (okay, really hard) to concentrate with her sprawled out beneath him. In fact, it was reminded him of all those dreams (fantasies) where they'd get into a fight, loud and angry with flushed skin and heaving chests and then fall over on the bed together, where clothes would be shed and she'd go from yelling at him in anger to begging him to take her and touch her and kiss her and...

"Der-EK!"

Huh? Oh right.

" _What?_ " he grumbled. "Geez, Princess, you should be thanking me right about now. Do you have any idea how many girls would  _pay_ to be in your position right now?"

She sneered. "Lovely. You've become a prostitute." She lifted a manicured brow. "I'm sure they must all find your tripping and stuttering and weird zone-out moments simply  _endearing_."

Actually, they only really happened around Casey; he was entirely comfortable flirting and hitting on other girls... Well as comfortable as he could be while freaking out on the inside that every time he talked to another girl he compared them to Casey. Their hair wasn't brown enough or as soft or shiny. Their eyes weren't as blue or big or pretty and they didn't have her long lashes. Their mouths weren't as pink or smooth looking and they didn't curve like Casey's did. And god, it never ended. Nobody else compared, no matter how many times they let him up their shirt to feel around, all he thought was "Would Casey let me do this? Would her breasts fit in the palms of my hand? What would they taste like?" It was never ending and it was driving him out of his mind!

"Yes, actually, they do," he said, grinning cockily. But he was pretty sure they didn't or just pretended not to see it.

She rolled her eyes, scoffing. "Well, I don't. Now can you  _please_ get off me!" she near-shrieked.

Huh... Reminded him another of those dreams (fantasies), but with the wording a little more like, " _Please_ , Derek, get me _off_!" And it was in a more  _pleading_ tone.

"No." Even he was surprised when that word came out.

"W-What?" she gasped, looking rather scandalized. "Why not?"

He shrugged.

 _Why?_  Mostly because he was enjoying the feel of her body beneath his, all soft and curvy and pressed against him so tightly. He'd seen it, dreamt of it, touched it even, but he'd never had such an all-encompassing feel to it. Her breasts pressed up against his chest, her legs spread apart so their pelvises were stuck together, his legs laid out between hers. He wanted to move, just sort of... rock against her and see what she did. But he wouldn't, didn't, because that'd be crossing a line he couldn't take back and he was still pretty sure she didn't like him the way he was starting to like her. Well, starting was a relative word. If he accepted that this had been going on longer than his mind was willing to really suggest, then he'd wanted her from the beginning. Which wasn't much of a stretch; she was beautiful and a little crazy, bull headed and strong, smart and willing to fight him tooth and nail for every little inch of respect and power.

"God, you just  _live_ to annoy me, don't you?"

Sure, why not?

"It's fun," he said, smirking. And attractive on her. He could already see the flush on her cheeks and down her neck.

And then she started wiggling, trying to get out from underneath him or buck him off her or something, but all she managed to do was  _arouse_ his interest in keeping her where she was. Somehow he managed to get her hands and pin them to the school floor while simultaneously locking his legs with hers so that left them sort of entwined. He had a feeling if anybody walked by it wouldn't look like a fight at all. Her chest was heaving up and down with her anger, pressing her firm breasts up against him with each breath. She jerked her hips up and down and side to side and all that did was make him hold back a groan. She was a dancer and she had a beautiful body, but no way was she stronger than him. He played hockey until everything inside of him ached. He may look scrappy, but he was by no means a wimp. By weight alone, he had her pinned and he barely had to execute much power to keep her where she was.

"UGH! Der-EK! Just get  _off_!"

Hmm, not a bad idea. He half way there already and if she didn't...

"Stop. Wiggling." He ordered through grit teeth. Unless she wanted to be introduced to the reason he'd been tripping and falling all over the place, she really needed to stop rubbing her hips against his.

She didn't listen. Instead, she wiggled harder, bucking her hips up against him and rubbing her body up and down, all the while her face got redder and redder and her breathing became deep and sharp and he squeezed her hands stuck in his as he bit his lip, his eyes rolling back when she rubbed against the tight front of his jeans, up and down, up and down, until he was throbbing and pressed so tight to her, he was surprised she hadn't yet noticed. And then... she did. She jerked up and he was pressed right against her through... Huh, he hadn't even noticed she was wearing a skirt, which just so happened to have been pushed up in the scuffle. She didn't pull her hips back, instead leaving them up and locked to his as her eyes widened and her mouth fell open.

"Derek?" she squeaked.

"I told you..." He gasped. "To  _stop_ wiggling." His brow furrowed and his jaw clenched.

"I-I-I-I-"

He shook his head. Great.  _Now_ she starts to stutter.

"I just need a second to..." Or an hour to completely ravish her and then maybe it would finally  _end_.

"O-Okay," she said, clearing her throat.

"Um, Case, could you...?" He gestured down to their connected hips with his eyes.

"Oh, yes,  _right_ ," she said, nodding abruptly and lowering her hips back to the floor. "Sorry, I..."

He smirked. "No worries, doesn't surprise me."

She scoffed, suddenly annoyed once more and then she jerked her hips up against him so violently she knocked him over until he was sprawled out on his back and she was straddling him. He could nearly feel her through the thin fabric of her panties and the tight denim of his jeans. She was weighing so heavy on him, it was a wonder he hadn't already "spilled his secret."

"Un-be-lievable," she said, shaking her head as she pinned his shoulders down with her hands. How  _exactly_ did she get so strong she could overpower the captain of the hockey team? "You make fun of me for being a klutz! You get the  _whole_ school in on it! You've made my  _entire_ life here, with you, at a school, outside of it,  _everywhere_ , a complete and utter _mess_! You drive me crazy at every moment, just waiting for the next nerve you can jump all over!" She was getting louder and louder and he was just waiting for the principal or janitor to appear. It was good that it was after school, otherwise, the entire school might be watching this and it could've gotten even more awkward. "And now,  _now_ , when it's you who's acting like the nervous, klutzy dork, you still manage to make it  _my fault_. Well let me tell you, Derek Venturi, I will not-"

And then he did something completely stupid. In a drastic move, he'd managed to lift up from where she was pinning him. He caught her with his upturned legs before she was thrown out of his lap and then swooped forward and kissed her. It was soft, lips closed, nothing mind-blowing at first, and then... Then she gasped and her lips parted and his eyes fell closed as every dream/fantasy became obsolete because this was a million times better than what his mind made it to be. Her hot tongue, her minty teeth, her soft lips. Up close like this she smelled even better; her body spray and shampoo mixing and the scent that always said "Casey" to him invading his nose until it was all he was breathing in.

He kept waiting for her to shout "EW!" and push him away, scrambling to get up from the floor before she ran home to cry and rant about how Derek had been a colossal perv to her at school. But she leaned into him, her hands wrapping around the front of his black leather jacket and tightening, drawing him in closer until the front of her body molded to his. His arms were giving out, shaky and unstable and he fell back to the floor, head bumping against it slightly. But he didn't really care, because she was still kissing him, following him on his decent and was now sprawled atop his body, her mouth slanting back and forth across his.

His arms wrapped around her, fingers clutched at the back of her shirt and tangled in her hair as it fell down in blonde-streaked brown waves. His legs slid down to the floor, heels digging in as if his body couldn't stop jerking in surprise at how good everything felt. He could feel her fingers against his chest, her thumbs stroking him through his shirt as she played with his jacket where it was left undone. Her tongue kept sliding against his, tangling and dancing and he wondered if she was comparing it to one of her dance routines or some big Broadway play. He hoped so; because then that meant it was epic to her, right? It wasn't just some heat of the moment thing if she was thinking of Duck Lake or whatever.

His hand slid down her back, following the curve and his knuckles brushed across her skirt clad bottom until his hand spread across her thigh, fingers curled around the rim of her skirt and slid it up a bit, just enough so he could reach the soft feel of her leg. She lifted her knee and his fingers slid with the movement, brushing against the end of her panties; lace. He could almost feel the heat coming from between her thighs and as he traced her panties, he came closer and closer to it, feeling as if he was slowly lowering his hand into a pot of scalding water and he didn't mind, not really. Because he'd dreamt and fantasized of touching and licking and burying himself right  _there_. And then his hand cupped her, spread out and fully wrapped around her through her damp panties. He jerked, she moaned and he accidentally kicked the locker at his feet, startling them both.

Their mouths broke apart and suddenly the spell was broken. She jerked back, rearranging her perfect pink blouse and staring down at him with ruffled hair and puffy pink lips, wide, worried eyes and a heaving chest as she fought for air. "This didn't- We shouldn't-I've never-It can't,  _won't_ happen-"

"I like you," he blurted out, stopping her stuttering rant. "I really, uh, really like you. And not in that way that I like other girls because if I did, I'd probably already have you." He shrugged confidently. "But you're... You're Casey, so instead, I somehow got your stupid klutzy thing and every time I'm around you I just-I just-" He tugged at his hair in frustration. "It's like my legs give out on me when you're around and I'm too busy looking at you to see where I'm going, so my body suddenly goes in the wrong direction, right toward something that is going to make me look completely stupid. Which is hard! Let me tell you! Because  _I_ never look stupid.  _I_ always look cool and hot and... And you never cared about that though! When nobody else laughed, you did. When nobody else brought it up,  _you_ did. And I-I-" He groaned, closing his eyes and covering his face with his hands. "I didn't think you'd... Until you, uh... God, how did you put up with all this confusing crap that comes out of your mouth. I can't even string a sentence together, I'm so-"

She kissed him. Probably just to shut him up, but her lips touched his nonetheless. It was soft and short and it was still _almost_  better than the first one, simply because she started it.

His hands fell, eyes wide, staring up at her with his mouth slack jaw as she sat atop him looking like the Cheshire cat.

"Y-You..."

She nodded. "There will be rules, though," she told him, lifting her chin primly. "If we start anything between us..." She lifted a brow. "I'm the  _only_ one."

She was stern, serious, and he pretended to think it over because he wasn't going to admit right off the bat that nobody else compared anyway, so she wasn't in trouble of him straying anytime soon. Just as soon as she slapped his shoulder with a, "Der-<i>EK!</i>" and made to get off him, he sobered up, grabbed her hips to keep her in place and nodded with her first rule.

"Okay, secondly... I don't want to keep it a secret. I refuse to get into one of those melodramatic situations because it'll just hurt everybody, us included." Casey minus drama? He'd give it a try but he had a feeling their relationship wasn't going to be all ups. He nodded anyway. He personally couldn't wait to hear his dad and step-mom sputter and trip over each other as soon as they realized that the good and proper Casey MacDonald wanted the bad and not-her-type-in-any-way-shape-or-form Derek Venturi.

"There'll be more but I can't think of them right now. Maybe I'll write a list and-"

"You can color code it and write in alphabetic order later," he told her smirking. "E-mail it to me and I'll be sure to read it a few thousand times before reciting it to you word for word so you're sure that I've aced Dating Casey 101." He may like her (love was too big a word right now, right? Uh,  _right?_ ) But he was still Derek and he wasn't about to become some love - er,  _like_ sick puppy over her that followed rules and orders... Where would be the fun in that?

She huffed, crossed her arms over her chest but then let her frown slightly quirk into a smile. " _What_ am I going to do with you?" She lifted a brow.

He grinned, sitting up and wrapping his arms around her. "I have an idea or two." He caught her lips once more.

So he wasn't a mind reader and he liked to think that maybe all her tripping and klutziness had blown over after all these years. That she probably liked him just as long but got better at hiding it. And maybe he was a little slow on the uptake, but hey, the reward in the end was still above and beyond.  _Almost_ as good as hockey... When her tongue stroked against his, he decided she and hockey tied... Not that he'd  _ever_ tell her that. He dearly hoped though, that his klutzy days were over, because he had a big game this Sunday and there was no way his girlfriend wasn't going. But if he kept tripping over himself on the ice just because she was there, well... his days in hockey would be short-lived.

Still... he may have looked like a supreme idiot and he probably had a permanent dent in his forehead from walking into people's locker doors, but... maybe it was worth it. After all, if he hadn't tripped when he did, who knows how long it would've taken for them to get their crap together? And if it did go away now that he had her, he was going to be back on his game. Derek Venturi, suave and charming and attached to one girl alone... Well, at least he wouldn't look like a dork in college.

He could feel her fingers in his hair and he didn't fumble in the least when he slowly stood them up so they were no longer on the dirty floor. He didn't trip when he leaned her against the lockers for a little more kissing and fondling. He didn't stutter once as they left the school hand in hand, talking about what to expect on their way home to tell their family the surprising news. And he stopped zoning out, because really... What was their to fantasize about happening when you had the real thing in arm's length and probably willing to try out at least a few of those dreams in real life?

So maybe this klutzy thing she passed onto him wasn't so bad after all. At least it was gone (he hoped), which made it sort of like magic, the  _good_ kind. So long as it never, ever happened again. He had a reputation to uphold, after all.


	13. Casey's Cleaning Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He, personally, had long ago accepted cleaning as her way of sorting out what was going on in her head, her way of coming to terms with those big moments.
> 
> [ **originally posted** : Sep. 15th, 2008 at 6:52 PM]

She was in deep thought. He knew because she was cleaning even more than usual. She'd dusted everything (twice), she'd cleaned the floors (on her knees with a plastic sponge to get every little spot off before she used the regular mop), she put every book in the  _entire_  house in alphabetical order and color coordinated the cans in the cupboard, the fruits, vegetables and containers in the fridge, and now that she was starting in on his sports room where he kept all of his memorabilia, his flat-screen for watching the games, his messy ‘guy surroundings' for game night, he was getting worried. Because despite how Casey was a clean freak, they had long ago agreed, sometime between marriage and buying their house, that he would have one room all to himself to mess up however he liked, to watch hockey or football or whatever ‘manly' game he wanted and she would never, ever touch it. She wouldn't clean it, wouldn't right the crooked pictures, she wouldn't even dust the flat-screen. And now she was standing in the doorway, dust brush and cleaning supplies in hand and while it definitely needed to be cleaned, it meant something big was happening.

He intercepted her, pulled the cleaning stuff from her hands, tossed it away carelessly and then redirected her away from his precious room and downstairs to the living room. He sat her down in his leather armchair because for some reason it always made her relax and then he knelt in front of her, brow lifted and shoulders tensed. She'd been a little cranky lately, her emotions all over the place (not that it was really all that unusual for Casey, but this was an all new manic for her), and she'd been feeling sick on top of everything else. "You wanna tell me what's going on or are we going to play ‘Guess what's on Casey's mind' today?"

She sighed, staring down at her hands clasped white-knuckle tight in her lap. "Nothing," she said in that soft, quiet voice that meant ‘Something Big.'

She was playing with her wedding band, the one he put on her finger three years ago at their wedding where far too many hockey players sang loud and off key and gave her bear hugs in congratulations.

Their relationship endured a lot of cleaning; after they first kiss, long before any talk of dating, she cleaned the entire MacDonald/Venturi home, top to bottom, twice, in one day. Before their first date, she nervously rearranged everybody's closets according to color and how often they wore it. After their first date, she cleaned both bathrooms in the house, even taking a spare toothbrush to clean ever crevice of mildew or whatever. For a week after their first fifteen or so boyfriend/girlfriend kisses, she was in constant clean mode; the bathrooms, closets, floors, stairs, whatever caught her eyes. The first time they made love, he woke up to his room so clean he thought he'd been in somebody else's house. Four years later, when he proposed, she rearranged all of the furniture in their apartment and he found her vacuuming the hallways on  _every_ floor.

He, personally, had long ago accepted it as her way of sorting out what was going on in her head, her way of coming to terms with those big moments. She hadn't gone through cleaning mode for any of her other boyfriends, just him, and that made him feel unusually special. Not that he'd actually tell her that. Despite now being together for seven years, he still enjoyed bugging her about her cleaning habits - mostly because she got all flustered and prim and he liked making her so much less innocent while dragging her into their bed to mess up the clean sheets.

"Case?" He held her knees in his palms and as she looked at him, he slid his hands up and down her thighs to comfort her. He seriously hoped she wouldn't cry, but she had that wobbly lip and big, damp eyes thing going on, which usually spelled ‘sudden hockey practice he forgot' just to get away from her emotional outbursts.

"I just... I mean... I thought we... And then that time... And that other time..." She sniffled. "And okay, those other four times, but..." She heaved in a shaky breath that was on the verge of a sob.

He stared at her in confusion. "Still in the dark here, Case."

She nodded, sniffling. "I t-took a t-test... Well," She threw up her hands, "You know me, I actually took s-six tests and... and they were all..." She stared down at him, half-smile, half-frown. "Positive."

Tests? Positive?

"You're..." His brows lifted high, mouth forming and ‘O'. "And we're..." She nodded. "So I'll be a..." She smiled shakily. He cleared his throat. "That definitely explains the cleaning..." he murmured thoughtfully.

"That's all you have to say?" She looked annoyed now, not in the least bit weepy, which was good in his opinion. "Der-EK! We're having a baby and all you can say is that explains why I was going to clean your precious games room? UGH! I can't believe you'd-"

He kissed her; half to shut up and half because he was seriously freaking out with happiness. He was gonna be a dad! He was gonna be the best dad alive! He couldn't wait to tell the guys on his team; they were going to freak! He had to call Sam and Ralph and his dad... In fact, he had to tell everyone. He kind of wanted to yell it a bit, just sort of start screaming and doing a little victory dance. But all of those thoughts sort of melted away when Casey's tongue reached for his and her arms slid around his neck and her body slipped out of the chair and fell against him until they were sprawled out on the carpet.  _This_ is what got them pregnant in the first place; now he understood that rambling sentence about all those times they'd done something. They still hadn't really passed that point where the sex dwindled and God he hoped they never did.

He could feel her stomach pressed against his and his chest thumped. In there was his baby... HIS baby. He smirked against her mouth, a laugh bubbling in his chest. She could clean for days if this was the kind of news he got from it. Well, maybe not  _days_ , that didn't leave much time for other things. And it'd probably be really exhausting and were they ever allowed to have sex when she was pregnant? Because she should rest a lot, right? And he didn't have any ideas about resting for the day; actually, he planned on exhausting her and himself to the point where movement became non-existent any longer. He should ask her; she probably read every book ever made on pregnancy, but then her hips rocked against him and he decided since she was the primary responsible one in their relationship she would've pulled away by now if they weren't allowed and really... they had a nice clean, perfectly made bed upstairs just waiting to be messed up. He definitely wasn't complaining.


	14. Just Another Day in the Life of Edwin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Edwin Venturi didn't always exactly like his older brother (much as he often looked up to him), he followed orders well.
> 
> [ **originally posted** : Sep. 17th, 2008 at 9:22 PM]

While Edwin Venturi didn't always exactly  _like_ his older brother (much as he often looked up to him), he followed orders well. More because he knew the consequences if he didn't and it wasn't just Derek who he was intimidated by but Casey too. Upon finding out about his step-sister dating his brother and their not entirely impressive way of hiding it, Edwin wasn't sure how long it would take for their parents to pick up on the change. He expected it to happen soon and was personally hoping to see quite a show. However, Casey was bright enough to pick up on the fact that they weren't always exactly good at keeping their relationship,  _ahem_ , quiet, which is when the new system came into play.

It was well known what time Nora and his dad woke up and what they did to get everyone else up and going. Marti was the last to be woken, besides Derek who woke up on his own schedule, and Casey was usually the first out of bed without anybody's assistance. Then Lizzie and then Edwin, followed by the parents shuffling up from the basement to rouse them, which no longer really needed to be done.

But since Casey and Derek had been found out by their younger siblings, things had changed some.

Upon walking out of the bathroom after his morning shower and still brushing his teeth while Lizzie ran inside for her hairbrush and then left back to her bedroom, Edwin could clearly see from the bathroom doorway across to Casey's bedroom. The door was left open and from his vantage point, he could see Derek sprawled comfortably in Casey's bed, bereft of a t-shirt (and probably much more) with his arm hanging down off the bed, his mouth half open against her bright pink pillow and his hair in disarray. Laid out across his back, using it as her own personal pillow, was Casey, her arm across his waist and her face partially buried against Derek's far shoulder blade. She too was obviously wearing little clothing, but had her pink sheet pulled up over her self and tucked in to hide everything.

This wasn't an unusual sight. Since it became obvious the two were dating and that their siblings found out, they weren't shy about what was seen. Although it was well known Marti wasn't allowed near either bedroom before or after a certain time and things were kept well covered. In any case, most mornings Edwin found himself out of bed before he'd really like to be just to make sure that his two eldest siblings weren't caught. Why he kept this secret, he wasn't sure. There were times when he wanted to slack on his job of look out and just watch the fight as it played out. Eventually, his parents had to get over it. After all, Derek always got his way, even with Nora and her girls there, and Casey really only had to shed a few tears before they'd be putty in her hands. But then, Edwin didn't really bring that up to them; even if Derek hadn't figured that out, which he must have, Casey must know by now how their parents would react. Ed decided he didn't really want to know their reasons for keeping it quiet, seeing as it might have something to do with the thrill they got before they... they... ugh. Backspace, erase, never think of again.

Spitting out the toothpaste taking up enough space to start making his tongue burn, Edwin glanced down the stairs and listened hard.

"Oh Georgie, you need new PJ's," he heard his step-mom sigh.

"What? Why? I like these! I've had them since Derek was just a little boy."

"Exactly."

Edwin rolled his eyes.

"I'll get Lizzie if you get Edwin," his dad offered.

"Nice try, Venturi. But I know if Edwin's still in bed, he'll try his fake snoring thing and pretend he can't feel me shaking him in hopes that he can stay home.  _I'll_ get Lizzie, you've got Ed."

Wiping his mouth, Edwin hurried across the hall. "Rent's alert!" he exclaimed. "Rents Alert! Alert! It's the rents!"

"Uhhhh..." Derek groaned, waving an annoyed hand.

"Five... four... three..."

There was a thump as Casey kicked Derek off her bed and rolled over, wrapped in her blanket while her half-asleep boyfriend dragged himself off the floor and stumbled toward his room wrapped in nothing but Casey's sheet, his eyes still shut. He fell onto his bed, not bothering with much else and Edwin rolled his eyes. With a sigh, Lizzie walked by, closing the door for him and then walking over to stand next to him as their parents came upstairs.

"You're up," Nora said, brows raising.

"There are upsides. Apparently I can actually have a shower before school if I sacrifice a little sleep..." Edwin shrugged. "Who knew?"

"Why don't I hear arguing?" George wondered, eyes thinned. "Either I've gone deaf or this is backwards day..."

"I  _love_ backwards day!" Marti exclaimed, hurrying over. "Does this mean I get to play lawyer and you have to go to school?" she asked, grinning up at her dad.

With a laugh, Nora shook her head, running her hand over Marti's. "Not today. But I think since the lack of yelling has put me in a good mood, I might just make us all something other than cereal."

"Yay!" Marti half-shouted, running toward the stairs. "Can Daphne have some too?"

"Of course," George assured, wrapping an arm around Nora as they walked back downstairs.

"Mission accomplished," Edwin said sighing. "Secret kept another day."

Lizzie shook her head. "Yeah... Whatever, Bond. Let's get down there before Casey actually wakes up. The fake fighting will start soon and I don't want them to convince mom cereal might be a better idea."

"True," Edwin agreed before walking into the bathroom to gargle mouthwash, put his toothbrush away and then run downstairs. He briefly glanced at the closed doors of his eldest siblings. They better appreciate him! He was expecting pizza out of this deal and possibly a promise of future riches. Hey, one day Derek was bound to be a big hockey star with millions of dollars, he could spare a few to his incredibly savvy brother who just so happened to help him and his future wife avoid certain drama. With an amused smirk, he walked downstairs to join the rest of the family. Just another morning, another secret, another day in the life of Edwin.


	15. Lucky Charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Just admit it… you _need_ me.”
> 
> [ **originally posted** : Jul. 7th, 2009 at 12:04 AM]

He entered her room sans knocking and in full freak-out mode. “There are scouts at tomorrow’s game. Sam just called to tell me…”

She looks up from her homework with a truly confused expression. “So?” she wondered, shaking her head questioningly.

“So?” He stared wide-eyed at her. “ _So?_ ” His voice rose an extra octave. “These guys have my entire future in the palm of their hand… I have to be at the top of my game!” He began pacing across her floor, waving a finger in the air as if he had a point but coming up with nothing.

With a sigh, she closed her book and sat up, her knees bent beneath her. “What are you so worried about?”

“Worried?” He snorted, lifting his shoulder. “Me? I’m not… pfft… heh…  _worried_.” He crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “You know who’s worried?”

“Uh, you?” She cocked a brow.

He glowered. “Pay attention, Spacecase.  _The_ Derek Venturi doesn’t  _get_ worried!”

“Well, does he pace and rant? Because that’s what  _you’re_ doing and in case you haven’t noticed, I was busy…”

He glared, coming to a halt in the center of her room. “Just for a second, lend an ear to my crisis, all right? I have the biggest game of my life coming up—“

“Which you’re not worried about,” she interrupted mockingly.

“Right,” he replied sharply, narrowing his eyes meaningfully. “And there will be serious scouts there, to see me, and decide my future, of which I hope never to have to actually  _pay_ for, so…” He rolled his hands as if for her to continue his train of thought.

She shook her head, rather confused. “You’re hoping they’ll give you a full scholarship…?” she more questioned than answered.

“Right. Which means…?” He stared at her with wide, impatient eyes.

“Sorry, not following…” She shrugged.

He sighed heavily, his head falling, chin bumping his chest. “All right, try to keep up… We’ve won the last three games, all of which a certain person has oddly been invited to. The same person,” he motioned purposely, “who hadn’t been there at the two games we previously lost…”

“Okay…” Her eyes narrowed. “So, this person needs to come to your game?”

He nodded, brightening. “Yes!”

“Because she’s a good luck charm?” Her lips curled in a knowing smile.

His brown eyes widened. “What? No. She’s… a decoration.”

She crossed her arms over her chest smugly. “A decoration that helps you win your games?”

He blew out a breath of irritation. “No… Simply a coincidence that coincides with—“

“Ooh, big words,” she teased. “Just admit it, Mr. Superstitious, you  _need_ me…” Her eyes darkened with something akin to triumph while her grin lightened into a full smile.

He frowned, refusing to admit anything.

“Say it,” she encouraged.

He shook his head.

She lifted her chin defiantly. “Say it or you’re on your own at tomorrow’s game!”

He grit his teeth, glaring at her, hoping she’d cave despite knowing she was rare to do so. She stared back just as passionate for her own cause.

“Fine,” he bit out. “Ineedyou.”

“Hm?” she asked, batting her eyes. “I couldn’t  _hear_ you…”

“Ineedyou,” he strangled out.

Closing one eye, she held up her hand, her thumb and forefinger parted slightly. “Little louder.”

Grinding his teeth, he finally glared at the ceiling. Licking his lips, he said, “I. Need.  _You_.”

She beamed at him. “Why?”

“Because…”

“Be _cause_ …?”

Blowing out a breath, he sat down at the edge of her bed, vexed. “What happened to mercy?”

Leaning in, she smiled up at him proudly. “Hey, I have to take these moments in their rareness and milk them for all they got!” she replied cheerfully.

He snorted, holding back a smile. “Will you come to my game?”

She stared at him, waiting.

He snickered. “ _Please_.”

Happy, she patted his shoulder. “Of course I will!” Her smile took a nosedive, however. “You don’t expect me to wear that old, sweaty jersey do you? Because the toxic fumes  _alone_  would have the scouts running in the opposite direction…”

He smirked. “You still have that cheerleader outfit?”

Her brow furrowed. “Yeah…”

“Wear that and bring your pompoms. Having my own cheering section is sure to impress them.”

“Der- _ek!_ ” she shrieked, her expression darkening.

Laughing, he jumped up from his seat at the edge of her bed. “Think about it, Case. You’ll be raw-raw-rawing just for you sweet step-brother!” He lifted his arms in the air and chanted, “Derek! Derek! Derek!”

“Ugh!” She hopped up from her bed, her hands balled in fists at her hips. “I would never sink so low.”

Having the upper hand now, he leaned forward boldly, their noses nearly touching. “Admit it, there’s nobody else’s name you’d rather scream at the top of your lungs,” he suggested lowly.

She blinked, her expression clearing quickly. She struggled for a smart reply but when none came, he grinned. Reaching up, he chucked her chin with his knuckles, letting them glide across her soft skin. “Makes you feel better, there’s nobody else I’d rather either.”

She swallowed tightly, her eyes falling to his lips.

He winked. “See ya tomorrow, Case.”

“Mmph,” she managed, letting him leave without protest.

He may be superstitious, but he was also cunning. Why not kill two birds with one stone? If he got that full ride to college, he might just be bringing along a girlfriend for the journey. And really, as if he wanted anybody else in the all-coveted spot but the ever-challenging, mind-boggling, passionate Casey McDonald. And when she showed up the next afternoon in full cheerleading regalia, with the bulldogs name covered by a homemade patch with his team name on it, he grinned knowingly. This was the beginning to one interesting trip.


	16. Near-Death Proclamations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Derek takes a spill in hockey, he realizes he should probably share a few things with his favorite Space Case. 
> 
> [ **originally posted** : Feb. 2nd, 2010 at 9:09 PM]

Casey helped him to the couch, being careful not to jostle him too much. It was worrying her that he was being so quiet. Usually, he’d be shottying the remote and demanding nachos or some other entirely unhealthy snack. Instead, he just sat there, his expression unreadable and his eyes dark. The doctor said he might be a little out of it; he was on a lot of pain meds for his latest injury. While any normal and  _sane_  person might’ve stayed over for observation, Derek had immediately vetoed the idea and made it clear he wanted to go home as quickly as possible. She had argued with him but when her only response was a firm frown, she knew there was no changing his mind. It was when he wasn’t verbally sparring with her that she knew that nothing she said would make an effect.

Setting him up with more pillows than needed, she turned to leave. Maybe she’d make him a snack, something he wouldn’t like, and get a rise out of him. If he ate it, she knew she had to call an ambulance. With her logic firmly in place, she smiled.

Quickly, he grabbed her hand, and dragged her back until she was standing in front of him, worried. “What? What is it? Is it your head? How many of me do you see?” she asked anxiously. Suddenly, she stomped her foot. “Der-ek! I  _told_ you it was better to stay at the hospital.”

He didn’t reply, instead he squeezed her hand and waited. And when her muttering died down, he stunned her. “I love you, Case.”

She blinked. “How many pills did you take?” she half-yelled. “You were only allowed three, Derek. If you’re _hallucinating_ …” She shook her head, already planning a way to get back at him for this. Two years they’d been in a relationship and yes, on very rare occasions, he said those three words. But for him to just spit it out, when it wasn’t an anniversary he forgot or to apologize for some  _other_ Derek-like behavior… She was instantly suspicious.

Rolling his eyes, he replied, “I’m not high!”

“Well then…” Her expression tightened with confusion. “Why are you being…  _sweet_?”

He sighed. “So maybe… I could’ve died…”

Her mouth twitched with a small smile. “Okay…”

“And maybe… I might’ve missed you if I did… A little…” He shrugged.

Her smile grew. “Uh huh… And…?” Her brows rose expectantly.

He glared at her half-heartedly. “And I guess it made me think a little… Not  _too_ much. I have my good looks and charms to get me through life, still. But…” He half-smiled. “Despite all the fighting and nagging and anal cleaning and the way you alphabetize  _everything_ , and—“ He took a deep breath, his eyes widening, “And your whining about the wet towels and all the girly crap in my  _manly_ bathroom and the way you obsessively fold all my laundry, underwear included, and—“

“ _Okay!_ ” she interrupted, unamused, “Get on with it, already.”

He smirked at her triumphantly; obviously happy that whatever  _kindness_ had overtaken him wasn’t  _entirely_ in full swing. “Despite  _all that_ , I do, kinda… love you. A lot.”

“More than an Heisman trophy?” Her face lit up.

He snorted. “Yeah… and not only because that goes to  _football_  players…”

She rolled her eyes, waving her hands dismissively. “Okay, more than... uh, whatever it is you hockey players get…”

He blinked at her, nonplussed. “The Stanley Cup, Casey… The Holy Grail… The—“

“I get it,” she interrupted, grinning. “So you love me more than Steve’s Cup…”

He nearly slapped his forehead but with the laceration across it he seemed to realize the impending pain that might cause and lowered his hand. “ _Stanley_ Cup,” he corrected and then added with a crooked smirk, “And occasionally, yeah, I love you more than The Cup… Like when you’re wearing that skimpy little nightie I bought for you…” He ran his fingers up her arm.

She snorted. “Nightie? It was made up of all of three pieces of string… I’m pretty sure that doesn’t constitute as  _real_ clothing.”

He grinned. “Exactly.”

Snorting, she rolled her eyes. “Obviously you’re in a better mood.”

“Well, the doctor  _did_  say it was best to keep me awake… Just in case I have a concussion… And right now I have a great idea about just how to do that…” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Cute. Except you tend to fall asleep right after… So I’m more than certain that  _isn’t_ our best plan of action.”

He pouted. “But it’s my  _favorite_ plan of action!”

She shook her head, grinning. “How does nachos and Sports Center sound?”

He sighed, nodding. “Not  _quite_  as attractive as you in nothing… but at least the TV doesn’t talk back.”

With an amused frown, she stood up and walked toward the kitchen. “Jerk.”

“Love you too,” he called back teasingly before settling back in his brown leather armchair and smirking. Life was pretty damn good.


End file.
